Isaiah 40: 1-11
Mark 1: 1-3
“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the son of God,” according to Mark’s Gospel, sounds quite a bit like the words of comfort coming to us from Isaiah in the Old Testament lesson that is also before us this morning. Words that begin with, “Comfort, o comfort my people.”
If we were paying close attention to Isaiah last week, in the first Sunday of Advent, we did not hear these words of comfort. We heard words of a sense that all is not well with the world and that we really do need a savior. And perhaps it left us a little bit on edge, wondering where our hope might come from in this Advent season that is our preparation for Christmas.
Well here is that hope, right here, right now, in this follow-up word from the prophet. Because the good news of our journey through the season of Advent is that Isaiah’s proclamation of judgment is followed immediately by comfort! In fact, for Isaiah the whole point of God calling the people to repentance in the first place is because God wants to forgive and restore and renew. To make whole. And the good news of our ongoing journey through the season of Advent is that the last word on Christmas—the eschaton, as we have been discussing in our adult education class—the last word forever from our steadfastly loving God is always, and finally, grace.
You see the people to whom Isaiah speaks, both this week and last week, have just plain suffered too much. The entire city of Jerusalem has been decimated by the Babylonian empire, the great Temple of Solomon destroyed, and the people have been taken into captivity—into exile—away from everything they know and love, wondering if their God even exists anymore.
In the world of ancient Israel at the time of Isaiah’s preaching, the people believe that something of the literal, physical, essence of the God they worship resides in the temple that is built to honor God. The kabod of God, they call this literal, physical essence of God in Hebrew. Translated into English as the glory of God. So every time you hear the phrase “glory of God” or “glory of the Lord” consider that this is referring to the literal or physical manifestation of God on earth.
We in the Christian tradition understand the glory of God to be seen in the incarnation. It is what we celebrate on Christmas Day. But the people of ancient Israel believed the glory of God resided in the Jerusalem temple. And by the time we get to this lesson from Isaiah the Jerusalem temple has been destroyed. And so the people literally wonder if God exists anymore.
They are ready to receive a word of comfort. And so God—who most emphatically does still exist!—and does not need a temple or a church, or even a preacher, for that matter, in the mighty yet intimate voice that belongs uniquely to our steadfastly loving God, calls forth a divine council in the heavens and invites the prophet Isaiah to listen in. And says, “It is time to comfort my people.” It is time.
A voice from the divine council rallies the troops. “Make straight in the desert a highway for our God,” the voice directs. Roll out a path of safety and security through the danger of the desert. A path that will always lead the people back to their spiritual home. And another voice confirms: somewhere along that path of safety and security and comfort the “glory of God,” the kabod of God, the physical presence of God in our midst will be revealed! And all people will see it together.
And another voice concludes: God, herself, will be leading the flock of God’s people along this path of safety and security through the danger of the desert, like a shepherd carrying the lambs of God close to her heart, gently leading the mother sheep” through this desert highway to land of comfort and healing and wholeness and hope.
This is what our Advent journey is all about, especially on this second Sunday of Advent here at Madison Square. We who gathered here last night in a service to comfort families of the victims of violent crime bore witness to the glory of God revealed right here in our midst in this our spiritual home. The same aisle your elders and deacons will follow to the table of sustenance that is our communion today became for those families the path of safety and security, foretold by Isaiah, through their desert of despair and grief. One lamb of God after another brought forward an angel of hope representing the spirit of the one they had loved so deeply.
They stood at the microphone, which had been moved beside the table, and they spoke the name of the one they had loved. And in speaking that name, they called forth the glory of the God who knows each us by name, just like we know the ones we love by name. And they called forth the glory of the God who also had a name at his birth that is coming so soon. And they called forth the glory of the God who relates to us in all the ways the one they loved had related to them: as mother, father, son or daughter, sister, brother, friend.
And they made their way by ones and twos and entire extended families to the tree that has been so beautifully and lovingly placed in our midst. And they hung their angel on the tree, gracing us with the glory of God through these angels on this second Sunday of Advent. And the God who is our shepherd led them with tender grace along this path of safety and security and wholeness and hope just as God leads each one of us along this path, holding us close to her heart, gently leading the mother sheep and the grandfather sheep and the brother and sister and best friend sheep, as we hold the ones we love close to our hearts, trusting always in the light that does still shine in the darkness. And the darkness cannot ever overcome it.
Comfort, oh comfort my people, God says to the divine council, with the same heart of the mother and the grandfather and the best friend seeking solace. Comfort my people, God says to us, who gather in this sanctuary of hope on this second Sunday of Advent. I know what it is to be one of you, God says to us, in this joyful feast that is our communion today. And I want you to be well!
And so I am calling you, God says, down this path of healing and wholeness and hope through whatever desert would diminish your spirit. I am calling you home to this table of grace. I am feeding you with my very own presence. And I am sending you forth to do the same for all you meet. Because the one comforting path of God’s presence in our lives must always follow two different directions: the first one inward to this table of grace, and the second one outward to a world that is hungry for hope. We are not comforted here, in the end, for ourselves alone, but in order that we might, in turn, comfort God’s people in the world beyond these walls.
This is the promise of our second Sunday of Advent, as we gather at the table of Christ for our resurrection meal. I pray it may be so. Amen.
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